Oneiros ‘61

Once in wheatened fields

He ran

Exhaulted by the wind

Limbered stretching,

Brushing legs, and arms

Soaring over golden ends

Undulating touches

Toward the blue earth split sky

Ahead, behind, aside

The same distant magic line

Never reached except out for

Exuberated glad.

Are you listening? Sir? The answer? I’m not sure...sir. Anything? I guess not sir. Someone else! Who knows the answer?...

Blonde desktop sitting

Jammed to the next stopped

Waiting

For the sound ahead

To speed up get out

Get away

Sideways glance -

Squared glassed out to the other side and...

Once in wheatened fields,

He Ran.

Again.